Kakuremichi
by Hatur
Summary: AU. KibaHina. CompFic to Gakemichi. There is a hidden path behind training ground 8. It leads from a filthy dog house to a rich compound. However, little ever take that path.
1. Prologue

Summary: There is a hidden path behind training ground 8. It leads from a filthy dog house to a rich compound. However, little ever take that path.

_**A/N:**_** WAAAAHHH! My first KibaHina ever ever ever! W00t W00t W00t! I am so excited! KIBAHINA FANGIRLS (girls is used here for neutrality, it is not pejorative in any way) UNITE!**

**So this is the companion fic to my Gakemichi (who no one ever reviewed ... bleh). **

**I like the fact that those two stories kinda depict the love story between Hinata and Kiba and between Hiashi and Tsume when it is more or less at the same stage. I can trace parallels ... PARALLELS ROCK! Let's see if history repeats itself, or if there is any chance that our beloved couple ends up together ...**

**But there is no love-dovey, yummy HinaKiba yet, you need to be patient! It will come ... one day ...**

_**Warning:**_** Well the fic is rater T, but there will be parts that will be definite M, it will be announced!**

_**Disclaimer:**_** Don't own Naruto ... If I did, Kiba would be shirtless 99% of the time!**

:: Prologue ::

A sole glance to her side. He stole a sole one, aware that the Gods would never forgive his blasphemy if he dared to repeat his endeavour.

Dressed in black, the emblem of the Hyūga clan upon her left breast, he knew she cried. Even if a great veil of dark, purplish hair covered her pale features.

Oh how he knew her by heart. He knew her so that it hurt his whole being. His right hand itched so badly, under his haori, his old, faded haori that was too small around the shoulders and that must have belonged to a thousand other men before him. His right hand always had known that its place was right under her expressive eyes as to collect every tear that would come from her broken being.

He guessed that she was clutching the soft silky fabric on her thighs, drowning in sorrow and shame. Sorrow at the idea that the only one she had always looked up to was dead and shameful that it had not been her life, her useless life that had been taken away.

Oh how he knew her, looking at her waning silhouette from afar and how he was tormented by the pain in his throat at the idea that she was crying for another one and that that other one didn't even have the consideration of remaining alive for her sake. Not that he had ever known what a pearl she was.

She had even been ready to die for him, putting herself between an enemy and that undeserving man. What man could not be smitten by the one that put her life at stake only for him? Only one man could have been cruel enough to overlook her beauty, her gentleness and the quiet distinction of her whole character.

The Gods have been just when taking him away from this earth. There was no question about his merits and were they not celebrating them? Did he not receive the post mortem title of Rokudaime (it seems that Danzō did not count that much to anyone and Kakashi would have been no Hokage, according to him)? However, whatever of a great warrior, of a great human being he had been, she was thousands of times more worthy to live. For the simple reason that she was pure. Purer than any creature on this world.

This man that now was nothing but ashes to which the whole village came to bow had been considered as the poster boy for purity of feelings. And yet, he never had it shown like she did. He submitted to rage numerous times when she never did, having undergone challenges he would never know about. He did fight through life to be acknowledged by a whole village, yet never once had he been rejected by the most important people in his life. His father figures stood straight against adversity. Did he not have Umino Iruka and Sandaime Sarutobi to shoulder him through his hardships? She never had anybody because even if anybody had wanted to help her they could not. The problem was not a whole village, but the very people she loved the most and whose diminishing words truly hurt the most, her family. Yet, not once did she give up on the dream of making them proud of her. It had never been to her to look up to him even if she had done that for the last ten years. He had to disappear for all her life to settle in place. By having spent all those years looking up at someone, she had forgotten how much she had accomplished by herself and belittled all her efforts, which at the same time had hindered an even greater evolution of her skills. Always believing that it is by luck that you pass from the academy to genin, from genin to chūnin and finally to jōnin can only undermine the quality of your work as a greater Shinobi. In the end, it had been her or him, and fate had chosen her after all.

The only unfortunate detail in that very situation was that she could not sense that everything that happens by the hand of fate is usually for the best. He however knew, and by knowing, he could not suppress the sinful joy that inhabited his heart thinking that finally she would live as more than a slave to an idolized image of what strength was. As well, his jealousy was calmed. For a rational mind as his, love was something that was buried with death.

However, whatever he could think in his dumb head, whatever he could try to insufflate into her mourning soul with his reflections would not make her raise her head and smile. She was crying and every tear he could not see, but only hear falling on the ground, sent a shiver up his spine. The ice of his whole body was burning. He wanted to launch himself at her, catch her minute, fragile form and run away, far away from there. Maybe, if he only extended a hand towards her, would she be at reach and not bending like a weeping willow towards the icon of the face that she had loved with all her being.

A hand came clasping his shoulder. A calming paw, posed on his back, as to transmit a little bit of its owner's calmness. Turning his head to the side, he noticed his sister, brow furrowed with worry, staring at his convulsed face.

He tried to sketch a smile, but it must have looked as a grimace for her grip to tighten. Nee-san, the only one that had always known about his sinful inclination, and the only one that would have accepted it for what it was. Only her full, dark eyes would comprehend and bear with him the weight of the cult he dedicated to that blind goddess that imposed him the same fate that she herself had undergone.

What did his slitted pupils express for his sister to start to pull at his shoulder? She was not staring at him, her pupilless eyes widening, she was seeing a vision that took place farther than his being. Swiftly turning his gaze to the one he never wanted to leave, he saw her crumble far away from him, under the scrutinizing eyes of people that would not forgive her such sensitivity. Before he could launch himself at her as he had dreamt of, an arm had snaked itself around his throat and was pulling him towards the exit of the temple in which the funeral was held.

The last flash he could perceive was of her being lifted by another man, a detested man that had always been a forewarning of great misery to them, from the day he had seen her crumble under his fist six years ago.

"Otōto ... you need to learn to control your impulses, you have done quite well until now ... What has happened to you, lately ..."

Before she could finish off her reprimand, an enormous beast jumped up and slammed her brother down on the dust. The creature that resembled an over-sized dog must have thought that his master would come out with sorrow in the heart, as it indeed was the case, and that a good roll in the dust would cheer him up as it did years ago.

"Goddamit, off, Akamaru ..."

What was it today, with all those people surrounding him as if he were the one in grief? Why could they not leave him behind and go on their own ways, he did not necessitate them, the only one he needed was her, her that had fallen to her knees in front of the picture of the Rokudaime. The only one that had dared showing a glimpse of her human nature in these times of war.

"Hana, Kiba, we are leaving."

Marching out of the temple before any other guest, the Inuzuka leader passed her erect daughter and her lying son. By no time a tremendous dog added himself to the image of that woman, leader of one of the greatest clans of their village.

For a few instants, in that incense filled place called a temple they had managed to forget how wretched the times were. Uchiha Sasuke had indeed been taking down. One great menace had been lifted from their village, however it had cost them a great warrior, if not the greatest and left them bare to Uchiha Madara, the mastermind of this Fourth Great Shinobi World War.

All the clans felt the pressure of these times, taking in account that most leaders had suffered the Third Great Shinobi War and remembered its stakes and losses. And Inuzuka Tsume was not the least concerned.

She was aware that even if she had battled for her clan's value to be recognized, it would be her kin that would be placed in the first row when the Kyūbi would finally be unleashed on the village and that it would be her people, her dogs and her children that would lose their lives on the battlegrounds.

That was the only reason why she would not kneel in front of anybody anymore. There were no Gods, no Kamis to save her, to save them now. And the Godaime could not do much but bow her head at the elders' requests (lucky enough that Danzō was dead) and at the council of the clans. It would be voted again that the Inuzuka be sent in a recognition from which they would never come back.

"Hana, take my haori and bring me those files we have gone through yesterday. I want also a new estimation of our effectives."

"Hai, okaa-san!"

"Kiba, go through all the war dogs again. The usual weekly tests ..."

Only a growl as response. He was still shook by the funeral.

Whenever she entered the Inuzuka main house, their mother transformed into an old woman he noticed. Under the judging stares of Konoha's great, she was more energetic than a young wolf, however as soon as she crossed the border that led her to her own little haven, she would let worries dig lines on her forehead, around her mouth. Tiny marks of agitated years as those soft, lovable wrinkles under her eyes that witnessed of sleepless nights spent crying.

He was not the only one to notice that years had started gnawing at her; Hana as well had seen the number of her daily tasks increase. She could sense that her mother, her beloved mother that had always shouldered her in her choices and decisions, would soon enough step down from her altar as great saviour of the Inuzuka clan and pass her the torch.

And she would take it; she would grasp it with all the strength in her right hand and become the pillar of the Inuzuka clan.

"Hana ... How many have died, this week?"

"Five, okaa-san. Four men, two of which died during an S-classed mission to Iwagakure while performing their duty as ANBU, one other dispatched with an oinin group meant to take down Zetsu and a genin taken by surprise with his teammates. Three women, all three tokujō, tracking down some nukenin."

A sigh was the only response to such desolating statistics. A heartbreaking sigh of a woman that understood what it was to be a mother. How many of those people left behind children and how many people just lost their children? The number of deaths all of a sudden seemed bigger when studied in such a way.

"What are the effectives?"

Her voice broke, leaving Hana perplex as to continue citing the statistics or leaving.

"The effectives, Hana. Do not make me repeat."

A smile ghosted around her daughter's lips. If Tsume was demanding, there was nothing to be worried about.

"Currently there are six hundred eighty three members in the Inuzuka register. Two hundred sixty four are forty and over. Two hundred eighty are between twelve and forty. One hundred thirty nine are under twelve years of age. There are four hundred fifty five females and two hundred twenty eight males. In all, we have only three hundred eighty six shinobi ready to fight, as this year there is quite a number of pregnant females and the late deaths of younger experienced shinobi have greatly mined our battalion. One forth of them are genin and chūnin, two fourths are Tokujō and another forth are experienced jōnin."

A heavy lump created itself in Tsume's throat, it was as if all her rage, sorrow, frights had concentrated at that very spot, pulsating at the same time as her thoughts flooded her mind.

Raising her head to stare at her daughter, she wondered how come someone like her had gotten so easily pregnant twice. She regretted it, staring at her little girl's big, sympathetic eyes.

Just yesterday it felt like Hana was strapped to her back, drooling and smiling with that toothless grin of newborns. Observing her features, and taking the time to analyze her from head to toe, anyone would have guessed that she had nothing of an Inuzuka. To some extent, it calmed her mother. Maybe just this once, this once, the Great Reaper would preserve one of hers. Yet, the sinister shadow of loss gave the impression of following her son's every step ...

"Hana ..?"

"Okaa-san?"

"What are the odds that Kiba survives this war?"

A pregnant pause. A silence as heavy as an armour.

"The odds are against us. Taking in account that in the last Three Great World Wars, the Inuzuka have been the clan that has endured the greatest losses ... However, Kiba is a Tokujō that will lead the war dogs and it has yet not happened that that very unit has been dispatched at the beginning, therefore if Konoha manages to capture the Kyūbi before the need for him makes itself feel, I believe that he will not even raise his pinkie ... Tokujō are after all the class that experiences war the least."

How Hana was lying, with her soft full eyes that had enough darkness in them to conceal all the truths of this world ... She was so like her father, that could look one directly into the eye and lie without any shame. That was so unlike the frank Inuzuka that blurted the most hurtful truths out as if they were the sweetest compliments. Nonetheless, it could be forgiven when thinking that she did that to preserve her mother's nerves.

"What about you, Hana? What are the odds?"

A feral laughter lit up the room. That laughter was the rarest thing that could occur in the Inuzuka household. For the soft, calm and cool Hana to howl with such strength ... At once, all the concerns seemed to fly off.

"My odds are the same as yours, okaa-san. We both have been refused to perform our duty as Tokujō and will be placed in the first row when Uchiha releases his big beast, however I will not die for any country in this world. If I do, who will take care of the tribe?"

Such confidence in the outcome, such cockiness. She was more Inuzuka than her mother maybe who had never embraced battle with such a smile full of her own value. Or maybe was she more like her father who would never pay any attention to the odds and come back alive, beaten to the pulp, but alive and victorious.

"Hana, leave me. Go help Kiba with the tests ... You can put down the statistics there; I will go through them again by myself. We need to take stock of and see what we need as war apparel ..."

"As you wish, okaa-san. Please do not overwork yourself. Not sleeping will not help our cause ..."


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_

**THIS IS A MESSAGE TO ALL THOSE THAT WILL GET ACROSS THIS CHAPTER; PLEASE TAKE 10 MINUTES FROM YOUR TIME TO READ A ONESHOT CALLED **_**JASMINE**_** TO BE FOUND ON .****. I got terribly sentimental when I read this little jewel that brought back so many memories and I want for everybody to know this: **_**NEVER JUDGE ANYBODY**_**. Never do, you can never know about somebody's issues. It is just so easy to label someone . However it is a real challenge to be a greater person. I am not moralizing anybody here, I myself am not a white lamb, but whenever I feel like just stopping at a first impression, I try to remember all those times that it hurt me for people to judge and misjudge me, and I try to better myself. So please, every time you feel like teasing somebody for whatever reason, put yourself in their shoes for two seconds and bite your tongue. Whenever you feel like labelling someone in any negative manner, tell yourself that there always is a reason, understandable or not, for that person to act a certain way. ****WE NEED TO BE TOLERANT TOWARDS EACH OTHERS FOR THIS WORLD TO BECOME A BETTER PLACE. START BY BETTERING YOURSELF AND GIVING THE EXAMPLE****. I know, if you want preaching you can go to the priest or the preacher... **

**Now that important message is read ... CHAPTER 1, PEOPLE! Can you believe it? I cannot believe it myself. Every time I finish a chapter, I feel a certain glee ... at the idea that maybe I am writing something nice. Just maybe. It doesn't matter if it is or not, what matters is the sense of accomplishment that we gain from it.**

**A little thank you to my first reviewer, Silverarrow65, who wrote one heck of a review and let's hope that I have been able to put in practice what you told me about ...**

_**WARNING**_**: None for this chapter. It is a very calm, easygoing, maybe a little melancholic.**

_**DISCLAIMER**_**: I still do not own Naruto. If I did it would be rated mature and there would be plenty of KibaHina smut ... so much there would be no time for Sasuke's megalomaniac delusions... **

:: Chapter 1 ::

Pearls of sweat ran down to her eyelids under the uncomfortable porcelain masked that she wore at least eight hours a day. Her breath was heavy, her eyes were tingling, yet she had no right to budge until her superior dismissed her.

Placed in a straight line, their backs as upright as arrows, faces concealed and katana at their shoulders, he examined his army. Drained and famished, covered in dust and blood, it stood proudly, sign of Konoha's power. Even if he had always fought back all types of emotions, he could not restrain an exquisite feeling of accomplishment at the sight of those men and women that he had trained and bent to his leisure. Every one of them, once his porcelain mask pulled over his features, would sacrifice his identity as individual for the well being of their motherland. However, it would not be done consciously as every one of them would lose at that very instant their souls and their ability to think. Only one thinking head would remain. His. As he was the captain, the general. As he was the one that would settle once and for all this War that had been menacing his homeland for now three years without even being triggered. Some months ago, it could have been another one, yet it was him, it was his destiny.

"Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, unit six, take off your masks!"

His voice never had to be raging as thunder for him to be heard as his men only had ears for him.

"YOSH!"

In one movement, following his example, every entity of squad six raised its right hand to the front of their masks, representing each a specific animal, moving them to the side of their heads.

Twenty different faces appeared to his eyes, all bearing the same cold, impassive expression. Some younger, some older. Some male, some female. Some beautiful, some ugly. Yet all blank and only breathing, as if the sun overhanging their heads did not bother their tired and broken bodies. There was one or two that had even trails of blood, flowing down their noses and mouths, shards of their broken masks having cut them superficially. Nonetheless, they regained their position, backs straight, legs apart, heads high and eyes staring blindly at the horizon.

"Those that are injured, report to the iryō-nin."

Even the smallest cut had to be treated by a medical specialist; their leader was very uptight regarding the health of his men. None of them would be excused if for any reason, at a crucial moment they found themselves unable to fight.

A good portion of his squad stepped fore, bowing as salute.

"THANK YOU, WASHI-TAICHŌ!"

There was no music more glorious to him than a united voice that would thank him for the harsh training that they underwent every day.

"Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, unit six, bow" was the order that the remaining men received. An order executed without hesitance or weakness.

"You can leave now, unit six. Kumaneko, stay behind."

Kumaneko was his newbie. A newly appointed ANBU that had been placed under his care. The black flame shining on her right arm kept a little bit of redness from the needle that had penetrated her skin not so long ago to deposit the ink that would direct her whole existence from now on.

Once all her comrades had left, she approached her superior with an uncertain step that remained after all those years she had fought back her lack of confidence.

"Taichō?"

He inspected her, from her glistening dark, purplish hair, tied in a high ponytail, to her little toes visible through her geta.

Returning back to her wide eyes, as pale as his, of a very uncommon whitish tint, and pupiless at that, he tried to scan her thoughts. He had to admit that it had been quite a while now that he had not been able to read her like an open book. Ever since she had fainted in a shrine a few months ago, she had changed so crucially that she was barely recognizable. It was most probably that metamorphosis that had permitted her to be selected in the ANBU and placed in his squad. She still appeared as frightened and bashful on the outside; her voice still broke at every word. Yet her body had become so confident all of sudden, as if it was possessed by some vicious demon. She had died somewhere inside of herself, and a new soul had replaced hers. When asked why all of a sudden her palms would care about becoming precise, her body supple, her attacks sly, she would turn her eyes away, blush as she always had, yet her voice would not flinch in her answer.

"There is no one anymore to protect us. We have to be strong now."

Nobody truly understood what she meant by that, however little cared, as long as she remained the way she became by miracle, eighteen years too late.

His uncle would even say, a grimace that should have represented a bittersweet smile etched on his lips: "Better late than never."

He, however, understood very well what she had meant by her answer. It was her manner to say that she had finally understood that the world was not fair. That the good actually died before the evil and that usually the evil won over the good. That is how life goes. Playing it fair and honorably only led to death. That was not the way of the ninja. It seemed that her nindō had changed.

Not that it meant anything to him. He had recuperated a decent ANBU that could be used in different situations and that, once well-trained, would be a good tool that he now that they were equals would not hinder in using, especially since there was nobody anymore from the Sōke that could oppose him concerning her, besides his uncle. But what were the odds that Hyūga Hiashi, who had sacrificed his older daughter in the name of his younger, would now back down when his dream of seeing his oldest become a great kunoichi was becoming reality? Better too late than never.

"Kumaneko, you are still somewhat slow. You always dodge a tenth of a second before an attack hits you. War and combat are not a walk through nature. You should be able to predict your opponents' movements. You will have to develop your reflexes. We will train together tonight when I get back to the compound. Please be in the dōjō at seven o'clock pm."

She bowed with respect at his order, without flinching, even if he had seen her receive quite an aggressive kick to the backbone.

"Hai, taichō."

"Go change now, and put some ice on the small of your back. Ōkami didn't go easy on you."

Konoha's streets had been empty for now three whole years. Merchandise came in in great quantity and was not anymore administrated by different merchants. Everything had been nationalized as the first reaction to a potential war. There was no more flow of money and the economy was frozen. The schools, besides the Shinobi Academy were all closed. People got along with the tickets they were handed every Monday in front of the Kage tower and that could be exchanged for essential goods, such as food, potable water, textiles. Every family chief would present himself with his family's register and receive, per head, a certain number of tickets. As in any regime, there were skeptical people that believed that if war had not announced itself in three years, it would never, and these people would gladly sell a certain percentage of their tickets, keeping only the minimal number necessary for them to survive, even if money had no value whatsoever anymore. And there always were people, usually very well educated and sly, such as her father, to buy off the tickets, for small amounts of money (they kept money for the simple reason that they were skeptical as well, just not on the same scale) and stock them up. The Hyūga clan was the wealthiest clan of them all, and trust her father for the situation to remain so even if the currency changed its appearance and name.

She sighed. It felt so lonely to walk through those streets without meeting anybody at the corner, or hearing merchants bicker about unfair competition. It had been so long since she had heard laughter like in the good old times. In Naruto's times. When he was still alive, hope was blossoming all year long, children were honoring him when playing in the streets. How many times had she heard them bicker about whom would play him and who would play the nukenin Sasuke?

She wondered if anybody had come up to him, ever, to tell him: "Children like you better than Sasuke, they do, really …"

He would have laughed and brushed it off, reminded for an instant that he had to save that lamb that had drifted away from the flock.

Yet, she regretted not having told him. That was not the only thing she regretted. How many times should she have told him all those things that would have never changed his situation, she knew, but that would have maybe changed hers. Why ponder upon what had been? She was too old to worry about what she could have done or what she should have done, there was no more time left for these type of laments. He was not there anymore.

He was not there anymore to make her believe that even those that are brought down and humiliated have a lucky star that looks upon them. It was so easy to wander away from one's responsibilities and stay weak when there was someone like him. Everybody said: "You see, when you gave the strength to dream and believe in yourself, you can succeed in everything."

Such words had made her so lazy. She had no need to prove that the weak could become strong. He already did it.

But he was dead. There was no one anymore to maintain her lifestyle of giving up before even needing to put in some effort. Therefore, she didn't really have any choice in the end but to go back to training ground 8. With a new nindō.

Strangely enough, the fact that her father abandoned all hope on her had given her a boost. There were no more norms to be followed, no techniques that should be considered as sacred and used above others. Anything was good as long as it was effective. That was the ANBU lifestyle: "Don't tell me how you'll do it, just get it done."

She felt free. Scarred, tormented and free. Her nights were long and restless, filled by nightmares and invisible enemies. Her days were full of challenges. ANBU worked in team only on missions, besides that they were each other's enemy and were all plotting against their taichō. The strongest Shinobi becomes the leader, as simple as it sounds. But to become the leader you need to submit or get rid of your partners before attacking the head. A good example was that day's training. Kicking a fellow ANBU in the back, like Ōkami had done with her, was a definite attempt to sabotage her health and her capacities as Kunoichi. Such behavior was the reason why she took every opportunity that was offered to train, that and the fact that more she trained less she dreamt.

Training ground 8 wouldn't be that much away anymore. Every time she approached it, she would feel a knot form itself in her intestines, twisting and rolling inside of her like a vicious serpent. Even more painful than the memories of her loved one was the reminiscence of her genin days. With her team and her sensei. She had felt a strange emotion when she would step out of the compound, in her large jacket bordered with some dog fur that Inuzuka Tsume had offered her son's team in celebration of their graduation. She still kept that jacket in her room, with her most precious belongings even if, the first time her father had seen it, he had spat to the ground. She had wrapped it in silks and beautiful, red paper for two very distinct reasons: it was her first mutiny against the Hyūga norms and, as a honorable person, she could not throw away offered by the Inuzuka clan, made inside of their walls by poor hands.

Also, it felt good to have a sign of belonging to some group. Team 8. A family, her family. Yūhi Kurenai, dead, Aburame Shino, dead, Inuzuka Kiba, lost in the entrails of the Inuzuka compound and her, the prodigal daughter that had not been able to hold onto this family she had longed for all her childhood.

She froze. One kilometer away from her, exactly in the center of the place where she was planning to spend her afternoon, were two beings with raging chakra wells. Shinobi. One was human, the other one … a pony?

The serpent in her intestines stirred, pulling at her stomach. Nonetheless, her steps did not seem to share her body and mind's apprehensions, they continued to lead her towards those two beings that moved around, played, so far away yet so near. Her mind was screaming no, her soul was dragging her to the opposite side, but her steps did not falter. They were the ones, maybe for the first time of her life, that led the dance.

Five hundred meters were easily covered. And they were visible for any eye. A tall man and his companion that resembled more a wolf than a poney, perhaps.

Four hundred ninety meters. And her head tilted to the side , she felt tears rushing to her eyes. Yet, she could not take them away from the smile that he was offering her, a hand on his enormous wolf-like creature's head.

"I smelled you at least three kilometers ago, I bet you couldn't see me until you were five hundred meters from me. I won again, didn't I?"

The same smile, mischievous and confident. But, in the big brown eyes that reigned in that bronze face there was something like a beast that just begged to be unleashed. For the first time in three months, she felt that there was someone again able to read her mind. And Inuzuka Kiba, tactless, clueless, Inuzuka Kiba at that. She felt naked to the memories that came back, attacking her and punching her in the guts.

"Kiba-kun …"

He became tall, she had seen it from afar, but now he was overhanging her, and with him everything that she wanted to forget. She could see Kurenai-sensei and Shino-kun right behind him, each one of them having a hand placed on his shoulder, staring right at her with contempt and hate.


End file.
